The Outcast of Shannara
by Azura Rayume
Summary: The unwanted son of a Rover and Elf, Nefizan has always been the outcast of the small Southern village he was left in where mistrust of those who fought with the Free-born in the war still runs deep. Set after The Voyage Of The Jerle Shannara books
1. Chapter 1

Sunlight filtered through the dust laden windows of the inn, somehow managing to find the face of the young occupant. The boy moaned in displeasure, then rolled over to his other side, covering his face with the dirty wool blanket that served as his only comfort from the cold. His room was always freezing, mainly because it was the old storehouse, but he did not seem to mind much. The old windbag of a woman who served as his guardian and constant tormenter had at least been considerate enough to give him that blanket one frigid evening, claiming that the only reason behind her kindness was that a live charge was looked upon by the village better than a dead one.

The lad had only managed to get comfortable again when there came a loud rap on the door, closely followed by a high voiced screech.

"Nefizan! Get out of bed, you lazy layabout! The fire needs tending, and the guests are awake. I don't want another leaving hungry just because you couldn't bother to drag yourself off the floor!"

With a defeated sigh, Nefizan rolled over, shielding his eyes from the sun with one thin hand. There was no way to escape the morning chores this morning, he assumed as he searched for a semi-clean tunic and pants on his floor. He yawned, his hand finally grasping a shirt of dark green fabric and some plain tan pants.

"Better than nothing," he murmured, slipping the tunic over his bare chest and muscled arms, the fabric drawing a few locks of black hair over his hazel eyes in the process. Feeling thouroughly annoyed at nearly everything on this accursed morning, he tucked the troublesome bangs behind his ear, grumbeling audibly.

"Are you up yet?" came another shriek from the outside, quickly followed by obnoxious banging.

Scowling, Nefizan shouted back, "Of course I am! How could anyone sleep with an old hag like you bashing down their door?" He immidiatly regretted the comment as his door was thrown open and his caretaker barged in, a faded blue dress hanging limply on her bony shoulders, a rolling pin in one hand and a frightening expression on her face.

"How dare you?" she shouted, brandishing the rolling pin like a club as she advanced toward him. Nefizan stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding a haphazard swing for his head. "After all these years I've cared for you. I've clothed you and given you a roof over your head after your good-for-nothing turncoat parents dumped you on my doorstep, and you have the nerve to insult me in my own home!" She swung at him again, clipping his shoulder painfully. She pointed savagly at the dining room, where a good many faces had turned to watch the struggle. "Now get to your work, or you'll find yourself sleeping with the dogs tonight. And cover your ears. It's bad enough that your face shows who your mother was; I don't need every Loyal down here bashing down my door because of some elf half-breed."

Nefizan edged past her, casting a wary glance at her weapon before tugging his hair to cover the points on his ears. There was no purpose in denying who his parent were, as far as he was concerned, but the old woman was always fretting about what the villagers thought of her inn and hated the idea of having business disappear just because of some stupid boy who lived under her roof.

A few moments later, he found himself sitting by the old fireplace, trying to provoke life into a few smouldering embers and simply producing a thin trail of smoke. The entire endeavor seemed more than pointless in his mind, but he kept at the taks, hoping that appearing busy would be enough to keep the old woman off his back for a while. It seemed to be working so far, though he could hear the whispers of the guests behind him. The innkeeper was easy enough to ignore, but the mumbeling of strangers always drew his attention from his task.

"Did you hear what she said about him earlier?" one asked, his voice gruff and low. "She said he was an Elf!"

Nefizan tensed involentarily at the mention of the word "Elf." Great, just what his morning needed. He sat quietly, listening even harder to the conversation behind him and abandoning the fire.

"Yeah, I heard," responded the first's companion. "I thought something was strange about that boy when I saw him last night. He nearly dropped a tankard on the innkeeper's foot, and I swear he did it on purpose."

"Like my father always said: no good can come from an Elf."

Nefizan's face grew hot with anger as he spun around, glaring viciously at the two men, who immidiatly ceased their whispering. Every time that woman lost her temper, he was the one who suffered for it. The guests regarded him as some feral beast that could turn on them at any moment, always watching him as he went about his chores, asking again and again why she didn't just keep him locked in the storehouse all day instead of letting him out with the "normal people."

"I bet your father was nothing more than a foot soldier who spent most of his pay on ale and women in the taverns," Nefizan said, bright emerald eyes gleaming with an urge to fight. "I wonder if he ever actually saw an elf. He probably just repeated what he heard from men who actually fought them."

"What did you say?" the stranger roared, rising to his feet. His breath reeked of ale, and he walked with the distinct stagger of a drunkard. Not exactly the opponent Nefizan would have chosen, but anything was worth the entertainment a fight would provide. "You think you're better than me, little Elven scumbag?"

Nefizan ducked as the man swung a fist for his nose, nearly falling over himself as he missed. The younger thanked the gods for getting more than just the look of an Elf. His mother's inborn reflexes had probably just saved him a week's worth of recovery. With a wicked grin on his lips, he spun, bare foot colliding with the man's jaw and sending him reeling into the table.

"I don't think; I know," Nefizan said calmly, his expression smug. He would probably get a whipping for such behavior later, but he could escape with due reason for the rest of the day now. He shot the customers one final glance, then pulled open heavy front doors and stepped out into the mid-morning air. He glanced to the hills that surrounded the village like a fortress wall, and his smile widened.

He set off toward the hills at a brisk walk, his feet carrying him to the one known as Eagle's Crest.


	2. Chapter 2

The mound known as Eagle's Crest was more rocky outcropping than hill. Many a brave - or foolish- young boy had fallen and been dashed on the rocks, found days later after being ravanged by some beast of supposed monsterous proportions. It was a forbidden area for most children, the place deemed far too dangerous by their parents.

And that was exactly why Nefizan was headed there. He disliked any contact with the other village children almost as much as he hated talking with that crazy woman of an innkeeper. They all spent their time poking fun at his Elven features, then running away when he glared at them, giggling like all small children do. At least, he had to assume all children did. He had never met one that did not laugh in such a way.

The youth shook his head, clearing it of all thoughts of the prejudice he lived under. He would not have to deal with the villagers' thoughts until sundown at the latest. Today, he would visit Jazin.

He paused at the bottom of the slope, emerald eyes cast to the sparce trees that started about mid-way up. A large form sat there, a black silhouette against the rising sun. A grin spread wide across Nefizan's face as he began to climb, his gaze trained on the figure.

His fingers found the well-worn handholds as if on instinct, his muscled arms pulling his thin frame up with far greater ease than any of the Southlander boys could have wished for. Again and again, he found reason to rejoice for what his mother was, despite the looks he drew from the townsfolk. What did he care what they thought of him? The only opinion that mattered was his own, for he could not have cared less for the fates of those who critisized him daily.

After a few moments of climing, the figure left its perch in the tree, spreading feathered wings wide to either side and falling through the air with a sort of etherial grace that no other creature in the Four Lands could ever achieve. It swooped low to the cliff, the soft edges of its golden feathers grazing the boy's cheek. The wind from its wings bombarded his face as it stopped to hover in front of his face, clicking its beak in an annoyed manner.

"It's good to see you, too, Jazin," Nefizan said with a laugh, pulling himself onto a nearby ledge. The creature landed beside him, wings folded gracefully in a regal manner. The boy reached over to it, hand stroking the smooth head feathers. The bird made some noise close to the purr of a cat as it pushed into his hand, moving so that his hand slid down its back to the base of the tail. It turned its head to stare at him with one dark, intellegant eye, an unspoken inquiry to the unexpected visit.

"What?" Nefizan laughed again. "Can't I come up here for no reason at all?" The eagle stared at him for a moment as if considering how to answer, then nipped at the boy's sleeve, pulling at the fabric roughly in a manner of demand. "Alright. Alright! I had to get away from the old coot. She's driving me crazy." Nefizan released a sigh, which made the bird turn its head in curiousity.

"You know, I'm thinking about leaving this place. I mean, I'm old enough, aren't I? I should be able to go where I please and search out work, real work." He eyed Jazin, then laughed at the eagle's hurt expression. "You can come, too. If you want. You're the closest thing to a friend I've got." The bird nodded then clicked its beak in approvement.

There was a rustle of grass behind the pair that cought Nefizan's attention, He turned around quickly, a rather foolish move considering the size of the ledge, and froze. A large figure, its featured disguised by a thick black cape that covered its entire body, stood on the cliff above the one the pair occupied. A deep voice sounded from beneath the obscuring cowl.

"Nefizan, I am in need of your assistance."


	3. Chapter 3

"Wh-Who are you?" Nefizan stammered, caught between his curiosity and the urge to flee. "How do you know my name?"

A sigh escaped the dark figure. "All will be explained in time," it murmured, extending a hand from beneath its volumous cloak. Jazin shrieked in responce to the intrusion, snapping at the offending fingers. The form did not pull back but turned its attentions to the bird. "I will not harm him. I simply wish to get him to a larger ledge. I am afraid he might fall."

Nefizan blinked at the stranger in confusion, then glanced to the shelf on which he sat. Seeing the logic in the figure's suggestion, he stroked Jazin's ruffled feathers reassuringly and took the hand he was offered.

A gasp escaped his lips as the stranger hauled him onto the higher ledge. Jazin squaked again, flapping in a hasty take-off. Nefizan struck the ground harder than must have been intended, and his vision flickered from the force of the impact.

When his eyes refocused Jazin was flapping about the cloaked figure, hooked beak snapping at arms held to ward off the attack. The halfling scrambled to his feet, calling to the bird that he was alright. The great eagle faultered in his front then stopped altogether, gliding over to settle by the boy's feet.

"You have a steadfast friend in that bird," the stranger said, sounding somewhat winded. "I trust he will come with you."

"But you never answered my questions." Nefizan's tone was wary, as if he didn't trust the figure. Which he didn't. "I'm not about to go anywhere with you until I know why."

The shadowed eyes blinked in their cover. The lad was more cautious than he had expected. "I am not the one to answer them," it said after a moment's pause. "But I promise you will find the answers you seek as well as an escape from this place if you simply come with me." Whatever the being was avoiding explaining must have been urgent by the tone in its voice.

Nefizan rested a hand on Jazin's head, and the bird turned to look at him. There was an eager glint in the avian's eyes, and his gaze seemed to say, "Well, you've wanted to leave for a while. Why not just take a chance on this?"

The boy glanced from his friend to the shadowy stranger. "You promise I'll find out what this is all about _before_ we get there?"

"I will tell you as soon as I am permitted."

Nefizan sighed. "I guess that's as close as I'm going to get." He pushed himself off the ground and stood, stretching. "Can I at least know which way I'll be going from here?"

"West."


	4. Chapter 4

Nefizan swallowed hard. West? That was were the Elves lived, right? He felt his face redden at the thought of being called a half-breed by both sides of his lineage, something he would rather not experience. He watched the stranger as his thoughts raced, then finally sighed. There was no better way to get out from under that old hag, he supposed. Besides, he'd always wanted to go on one of those adventures the men at the inn were constantly bragging about. Come to think of it, most of them were just expanding on tales they had heard elsewhere and adding themselves. This journey would probably top all of them.

He grinned almost mischeviously at the cowled figure, that daring light returning to his eyes. "Do you have a name?" he asked. "Calling you 'stranger' through this whole thing would get rather boring."

The hooded man stared off into the west as he spoke. "You may call me Brodin." His voice rumbled low and threatening, though the overall effect was beginning to be lost on the youngling.

"Brodin, hm?" Nefizan seemed satisfied with the answer, though he had been hoping for something that did not sound like an alias. For some reason, he had a hard time believing that that was this man's real name. He supposed that had something to do with the fact that he had never seen the stranger's face. He felt he could read people, but only if he managed to see the glint in the eyes. "Well, Brodin, when do we leave?"

"Now."

Nefizan was caught off guard. "N-Now?" he stammered, having expected a more mystican sounding answer- or at least something not so blunt.

Brodin turned to watch the halfling again, his mannerisms betryaing his confusion momentarily. "You were so eager to leave a moment ago," he said. "I thought it would come as no surprise that we would be departing as soon as you agreed to leave with me."

Nefizan tried to laugh if only to make himself less uneasy. "Yeah, but I could use a chance to say good-bye to my friends. Do you think I could..?"

"You have no friends here other than your bird."

"How do you know that?" Nefizan growled, offended.

A sigh escaped the Druid. "I have watched you for some time; I had to. Your assistance is needed if I am to undertake this quest, and I had to be certain you were right for it before I approached you." Nefizan could feel a glare though the shadows of Brodin's cowl. "Your part in the events to come should have started already, but you were not ready until now. We must leave as soon as possible before things in the elven lands grow too out of hand."

Nefizan glanced at Jazin, who dipped his beak in a nod before flapping over to the Druid, landing on a rocky outcropping just behind his head. If this companion who had yet to steer him wrong could trust and follow Brodin, why should he be so reluctant to help? Apparently the fate of half of him rested on whatever quest he was destined to partake in.

"Alright," he said, his face set in an expression of determination. "I'll go. Lead on, Brodin."


End file.
